


Caffeine and Adaptive Programming

by DemonicSymphony



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Android Sherlock, Androids, BAMF John Watson, Coffee Shops, Hinted James Bond/Q - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Pining John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicSymphony/pseuds/DemonicSymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a coffee shop Android slowly falling for a regular customer. But he's not supposed to be able to feel emotions...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caffeine and Adaptive Programming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BakerStTardis (Sokashi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokashi/gifts).



> Pinch hit gift for bakersttardis who said: "I love aus and crossovers. Star Trek, Tolkien, Pride and Prejudice are three faves. For Aus I can go for almost anything. Animal like features, magic, coffeeshop, androids discovering feelings, new ways they could meet, have to pretend to be a couple, stuck in an unlikely vacation sharing a room, all the classics."
> 
> It might have got away from me a bit...
> 
> This is what happens when someone else with the love of all things AU and crossovers winds up with me. (Though I do apologize for not hitting one of your three fav crossovers!)
> 
> To CS and WinterSoldier and the entirety of the AD chat. I don't know what I'd do without you!
> 
> As always you can find me on tumblr at [DemonicSymphony](http://demonicsymphony.tumblr.com)

Sherlock watched a short blond male look up at the coffee shop sign. The man paced back and forth for a moment. He was already reading him for signs of what coffee he might want. His programming kicked in as Sherlock observed. Words trailed across in front of his eyes.

_Likely doctor, perhaps surgeon. Clothing suggestive of well paying job, in the vicinity of well known hospital, hands show dexterity with phone. Tan indicates time overseas, haircut too short..._

_Processing…_

_Processing…_

_Army surgeon, just returned, tan stops at wrists and neck. Afghanistan recovery efforts likely._

_Processing…_

_Processing…_

_Bold, robust coffee, suggest offering bag UPC 44930284._

Sherlock looked up along the shelves until he spotted the name. He looked back down to smile brightly at the man as he approached the counter.

“Hello, Sir, may I offer you our special Dark Roast Kandahar?”

The look of confusion on his face was replaced with a grin. “Never will get used to that. You bots after they fixed the uncanny valley aspect are fascinating! You’re brilliant! Really, I thought you were human until you read me like that… what gave it away to your programming?”

Sherlock’s fans whirred and he smiled politely, unable to process the small, odd spark at being called brilliant. “Your tan and haircut, Sir.”

“Call me John. You lot write names on the cups, yeah?”

“Yes, sir… John. We do that here.”

John beamed at him as he peered at the nametag. “Sherlock. That’s unusual.”

“They did not rename me when I was purchased, John. It is my model’s name,” Sherlock answered as he went about making John’s coffee.

A small hum left John as he tilted his head. “I’m not familiar with that model. Cream and sugar please.”

Sherlock added the cream and sugar before looking back to John. ”I would not have thought you’d take them.”

“Ah, well… I’m trying new things.” 

With a nod of his head Sherlock spoke again, “My model is, unfortunately, known for developing faults. There are not many of us left.”

“Ah, I see,” John answered as he held out his arm for his chip to be scanned. “Well, thank you, Sherlock. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”

After John was gone with his coffee, Sherlock turned the meeting over and over, still trying to trace the problem of the spark.

\---

Over the next week, John came in every day. Soon his schedule was settled alongside all of Sherlock’s other regular customers’ schedules. John was delighted with everything Sherlock observed about him and Sherlock still could not trace down the sparks that seemed to happen when he saw and spoke with John.

When Sherlock came back on shift on Tuesday morning, John was already there.

“Hey, mate! I missed you yesterday morning.”

John’s words seemed to make Sherlock’s processing stutter and his arm hitched as he started the coffee.

_Start virus scan…_

_Start malware scan…_

_Start fault scan…_

Sherlock’s fans whirred in a huff as he sought the reason for the problem. He smiled to John.

“It has been found that people adjust better to android presence and it helps the uncanny valley if we appear to have ‘days off’,” Sherlock answered as he finished the coffee for John.

John hummed before speaking again, “I suppose that makes sense. Hey, I’ve been reading up on your model. Do you know you’re the only one in full operation still?”

“I am aware, John. According to the wiki I am able to access on my particular model, some of us are still used for menial tasks in factories after being stripped all the way down and the majority of processes completely wiped.” Sherlock tilted his head as he looked at John.

“Have I been faulty in some way with you, John? If I have been, please accept my apologies. You should report to my manager so it can be fixed.”

John waved his hands. “No, no! Sherlock, no. You always give me excellent service. There’s no need for any of that.”

He held his arm out for Sherlock to scan with a reassuring smile.

Sherlock’s eyelids malfunctioned, blinking several times in a row at the smile before he scanned John’s arm and handed over the coffee.

“Thanks, Sherlock! See you tomorrow.”

As John walked out the door, Sherlock systems returned his scan results.

_No virus detected… Please wait…_

_No malware detected… Please wait…_

_No faults detected… Please wait…_

_Android Sherlock Serial Number 01001010 fully operational… End scans._

\---

Sherlock knew the date he’d added the alarm to warn him fifteen minutes before John’s arrival. It was easy enough to look up in his records. The problem was he didn’t know _why_ he’d added an alarm.

There was nothing in his processes to indicate it was needed, but now, every day when John was due in, Sherlock found himself excusing himself to the ‘break’ room in the back, to make sure his hair was neatened (curse the curly hair he’d been shipped with) and that his body was free of coffee stains and debris.

When John came in each morning, Sherlock smiled brightly to him, chatting with him about whatever was going on. Before Sherlock quite realized it, John had been a regular customer for three months and Sherlock had never run as many diagnostics on himself in his entire existence as he had the last three months.

After returning from one ‘clean up', Sherlock stood at the counter, looking out across the coffee shop and taking in the never ending stream of data.

_Customer designation ‘Linda’: Coffee half full, unlikely to want refill_

_Customer designation ‘Thomas’: Tea cool enough to drink, scone almost finished_

_Customer designation ‘John’..._

He brushed the coding aside, taking on a broad smile as he watched John come in the door, early morning sun catching his blond hair and making it glow. Dark blue eyes lit up when he noticed Sherlock behind the counter.

“Sherlock! Fancy seeing you here,” John murmured his oft used greeting

Sherlock let out a small huff, sounding almost amused and started on John’s favorite coffee. “How are you today?”

“Fine, fine… Back to hospital with me. I have a few surgeries to do today. Will you make me an extra to go?”

“Of course, John, anything you want.” Sherlock hummed along with the music on the radio as he made John’s coffees.

John watched, a small smile on his face. “Sherlock… Do you do anything else?”

Barely able to school the surprise away from his face, Sherlock looked up. “I am programmed to play violin, along with this job.”

Violin?” John’s brow furrowed as he asked.

Sherlock ticked his head to the side. “It is a bit incongruent with my current job. I agree, but nonetheless, I am programmed to play violin as well.”

When John held out his arm for Sherlock to scan his chip, Sherlock’s fingers brushed over his arm, an almost tender caress.

“Sherlock, are you allowed off premises?” John asked, voice hesitant. 

“In the event a client wants to rent an android for catering or serving purposes, yes; I am allowed off the premises.” Sherlock watched John, the unfamiliar feeling of hope clawing its way through his chest.

John licked over his bottom lip. “What about- Ah, nevermind… catering… right.” With a smile, John took his coffees and nodded to Sherlock. “Tomorrow then.”

A small, frustrated noise left Sherlock and his human manager looked at him suspiciously.

“Apologies, my fan felt clogged,” Sherlock covered as he wiped down the counters.

Late that night as Sherlock plugged himself into his docking station, his last thoughts were of John and when he would see him again. His processor slid into sleep mode, running yet another full body and code diagnostics in his ‘sleep.’

\---

The voice he heard when he booted up made his fans whir in annoyance.

_Annoyance… Human emotion indicating displeasure with a situation._

Sherlock’s eyes shot open and he found himself staring into his designer’s eyes.

“Hello, Sherlock,” the voice rumbled.

A smile plastered itself on Sherlock’s face as he stared at Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock was unsure as to exactly _who_ Mycroft was, only that he held a position with the government.

“Hello, Mycroft. How are you today?” Sherlock’s voice took on the cadence of a normal bot, just close enough to human patterns not to be mechanical and wreck all of the work done with conquering the uncanny valley.

Mycroft tilted his head as he observed Sherlock. “I have had reports of you behaving strangely. Is there anything to report?”

Sherlock’s head ticked to the side as his systems checks flew in front of him.

_No virus detected…_

_No malware detected…_

_All mechanical systems operational…_

_No fault detected…_

“All systems operations, no faults detected,” Sherlock answered.

“Any maintenance done recently?” Mycroft asked as he reached behind Sherlock’s ear, plugging into a port.

Sherlock’s voice softened with Mycroft’s proximity, “No, Mycroft.”

Mycroft let out an unreadable sound as he scrolled through the tablet in his hand. He was silent as he studied it. 

After a few moments, Mycroft broke the silence, “Everything seems to be in order, Sherlock. Tell me, none of your previous memories have come back, have they?”

“No, Mycroft. The only memories I have from my previous employer is the programming for playing the violin,” Sherlock answered as he watched Mycroft.

“Mm, well. I’ll be back to check you over in a week, Sherlock. Let’s hope you aren’t faulting out like the rest of your model did.” Mycroft stood completely again and unplugged the tablet from Sherlock. 

“Goodbye, Mycroft.”

As Mycroft disappeared from the small room, the newest emotion to write itself into his programming slammed into him and Sherlock’s fans whirred at a dizzying rate as he panicked.

\---

John arrived at his normal time, his brow furrowing when he spotted Sherlock, asking without thinking, “You okay, mate? You don’t look so good.”

Sherlock tried to smile brightly for John. “Of course I am okay. I am programmed to treat all of my customers with care and respect. Am I under-performing my duties? My programming has returned no faults.”

“Right- no, Sherlock, it’s all- fine…”

“I know it’s fine,” Sherlock responded, eyes widening slightly at the snapping tone he managed with John.

John looked around to make sure no one was near them. “I think I need someone to serve coffee tonight. Is your schedule free?”

“My schedule is free. Please see my manager for further details.” Sherlock couldn’t keep the flash of fear off his face when he scanned John’s arm and handed over his coffee.

He wiped down the counters and scrubbed his station as he watched John occasionally. Fifteen minutes later, John winked to Sherlock and headed out.

“Sherlock. Stock the back and recharge. You’re being sent out tonight. Full shut down recharge.”

“Understood, Sir.” Sherlock disappeared to the back and set his body to wake at the appropriate time after he stocked.

When he booted back up his manager was pulling out the aubergine shirt and black suit that looked best on his frame. “Wear this tonight. You’ll be brought back in the morning. Take your portable charging station.”

“Yes, Sir,” Sherlock answered and rose to dress for his evening of serving coffee.

When Sherlock emerged, John was waiting for him just beyond the counter. Sherlock caught the look of surprise on his face when he turned. 

“Sherlock- that- that suits you very well.”

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock answered. “Shall we go so I can get to work?”

Looking confused for a moment John blinked. “Oh, right, yeah- let’s go.” He led Sherlock out to a waiting taxi and let him climb in first.

“221 Baker Street, please,” John murmured to the cab driver.

Sherlock’s head tilted. “That is a residential building.”

“Yeah, Sherlock… I know. It’s mine.”

Brow furrowing, Sherlock turned to John. “Am I serving coffee for a dinner party?”

John let out a small breath. “Ah- yeah… a small one.”

Sherlock let it drop, even though his programs recognized John’s lie. He did not speak though, allowing the ride to lapse into silence. It wasn’t until John was leading him up the stairs into his flat that he spoke again.

“John, why did you lie in the cab?”

“Christ, Sherlock, just- sitting room first.” He gestured Sherlock into the room and shut the door.

Sitting down in a comfortable looking chair across from the one John obviously used all the time, Sherlock watched John, trying to keep emotions from flitting across his face.

“I’ve read up on your model, you know? You know why they’re all scrap now?”

Sherlock’s fans whirred and he looked away. “My model is prone to developing mechanical faults and feelings.”

“Emotions, Sherlock… Fully realized emotions. More than any program has in the history of androids. You become _self-aware_.”

His voice snapped as he looked up at John, hands fisting. “You think I don’t _realize_ that!?” Sherlock’s eyes widened in shock and his hand flew to his mouth.

Sherlock looked away again. “Don’t- I’ll- John they’ll scrap me. I’ll _die_.” His eyes met John’s again, pleadingly.

John sucked in a breath. “God… no, Sherlock. No- I won’t. But you can’t stay there, you’ve got to realize someone’s going to annoy you eventually and you’re going to snap at them like you just did me.”

As he wrung his hands in his lap, Sherlock’s voice came out, barely a whisper. “My maker came to see me. They already suspect.”

“You were an MI6 bot,” John blurted.

Sherlock blinked. “I was _what_?”

“The Sherlock models. They were made for MI6. Originally meant to go into the Double-Oh program. You had adaptive programming in order to learn, to be the perfect spy. There were only six of you. The first two faulted out mechanically and were scrapped. The other three developed mechanical faults, but were also developing emotions.”

“I’ve read up on my model a million times, John, I’ve never read anything like that.”

“I still have my clearance. You were almost right, when you told me what I did for a living.” John licked over his bottom lip.

Sherlock groaned. “ _Android_ surgeon. The most finite repairs. Let me guess, you don’t work at Bart’s… you work at the military repair centre next door.”

“Sherlock I-” 

Sherlock waved his hand. “You have to report me. If they find out they’ll jail you, John. And that…” His voice hitched, his fans whirring roughly. “Please, not that.”

“I can’t let them _kill_ you, Sherlock.” John shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I lied… when I came in the first time.”

“What?”

“To you, about your name. I tracked you down. I worked with a Sherlock model in Afghanistan.”

Sherlock stared up at John as John looked away, ashamed. “You- what happened to him?”

John closed his eyes, swallowing, his voice rough. “He loved me.”

Stunned, Sherlock stared at John as he moved across the room and pulled down an album. When John offered it to him, Sherlock took it, opening it to flip through the pages.

He watched himself, another version of himself, work with John. As the pictures progressed through time, Sherlock could see the changes on the other Sherlock’s face. The softening of features as emotions wrote themselves into his programming, just like his own were.

The last picture was obviously taken when neither of them realized it. Sherlock and John were kissing heatedly against a wall. Sherlock had John pinned there, John’s hands sunk into Sherlock’s curls.

John’s voice was broken when we finally spoke. “They were watching- that- that was used as evidence in the court case.” He squeezed the back of his neck. “But it was such a good picture of us, Mycroft-” John’s voice cracked and he tried again, “Mycroft got me a copy.”

After a moment, John whispered, “You really do play the violin brilliantly.”

Sherlock stared at John. “John, that’s not-”

“That _is_ you, Sherlock. Sherlock Serial number 01001010.”

“How do you know my serial number, John?”

“We used to laugh about it. What’s it binary for, Sherlock? What is 01001010 binary for?” John snapped.

With a sigh, Sherlock answered, voice barely loud enough to be heard, “J.”

“Fucking, J… We used to joke that you were meant to be mine.” John’s jaw worked and his fist opened and closed at his side.

Sherlock stared up at him again. “I don’t remember-”

“Anything before you started working that bloody coffee shop three years ago? Yeah, I’m not surprised. They made me-” John closed his eyes.

“They made me watch them take your memories and your personality. They made me watch as they re-wrote your code.”

“John-”

John looked at Sherlock. “Tell me you don’t feel anything for me and I’ll- I’ll help you. I’ll take you back but I’ll help you. I- I was working on a program to help Sherlock- help _you_ control your emotions before we were caught.” He paused. “I couldn’t finish it in time to save you before… but it’s finished now.”

Footsteps on the stair made John look toward the door in alarm. “Quick through the bathroom into the bedroom… _hide_.”

Sherlock bolted at the fear in John’s voice and he was shutting the bathroom door when the voice he heard made the panic roar up into his chest again.

“Hello, Dr. Watson.”

“Mycroft,” John answered. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

Sherlock could hear the small chuckle in Mycroft’s voice. “You didn’t think we weren’t watching, did you?”

John’s breath was sharp. “Mycroft- don’t… _don’t do this_.”

“What choice do I have? I’m meant to be monitoring the situation, John!”

“He’s too important to re-write again!” John’s voice cracked on 'again' and Sherlock broke, rushing back into the sitting room.

“Leave him alone!” Sherlock snapped at Mycroft, glaring as he did. “Haven’t you done enough to him already!?”

Mycroft’s eyes widened at the tone in Sherlock’s voice. “You _lied_ to me.”

Sherlock blinked as he stood beside Mycroft, his chin angling up. “No, I didn’t. My systems report no faults.”

“Sherlock, I didn’t ask about your systems. I asked you if there was _anything_ to report,” Mycroft responded as he watched him.

When Mycroft took a step forward, tablet in hand, Sherlock shied back and John stepped between them.

“Let me buy him.” John looked at Mycroft pleadingly. “Let me buy him…”

Mycroft closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have to take him in, John.”

“You can’t do this again!” John shouted.

Shaking his head, Mycroft looked at them.

“I love him,” Sherlock murmured.

Both John and Mycroft stared, open-mouthed at Sherlock.

“What?” he snapped defensively. “Obviously I’ve already done it once. You didn’t take everything from me. I still play violin and my programming is still adaptive. John’s always treated me like I’m alive. Not just a machine. He treats me with respect, asks me about my day, of course I love him.”

Mycroft swore, which made John raise his eyebrows and look back to him.

“There are two choices now, gentlemen.” Mycroft gestured to the table. “I suggest we discuss them.”

John and Sherlock settled at the table to listen.

Mycroft set his tablet in the center of the table. “Sherlock can be taken to be decommissioned, _completely_ this time-” he held his hand up to stop John’s outrages protest, “Or you can both come back to MI6.”

He tapped the center of the tablet. “It’s all here.”

“What’s all there?” Sherlock questioned, eyes narrowing.

“All the coding and data we took from you three years ago at the Reichenbach trial.”

John put his head in his hands. “You kept it… you kept _Sherlock_.”

“We did. We’ve studied him at length. It would be- unprecedented,” Mycroft returned. “But it is something we tentatively planned for.”

John rubbed the back of his neck. “Double-oh status?”

Mycroft nodded. “Double-oh status. Though Sherlock will be somewhat of a new classification as he will be your personal Quartermaster. You will be outside of, but coupled with the current double-oh program.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” Sherlock snapped as he looked between the two of them.

“I’ll do it-” John murmured. “I’ll go back to the program.”

Sherlock scowled and opened his mouth to speak before John held up his hand.

“But I think it’s only fair Sherlock get all of his coding and memories back before he’s forced to make the decision.”

“John, I’ll do it- I’ll-”

“Shut up, Sherlock. You deserve to know what we’re getting into,” John stated as he put his hand out for the tablet. “Let me.”

Mycroft hesitated, but then handed the tablet and cord over. 

John plugged it into Sherlock and caressed his cheek. “It should take a little bit. You won’t have access to a lot of functions while it happens, but you’ll be alert and I’ll be right here with you, okay?”

Sherlock nodded. “Alright.”

Swiping a few buttons on the tablet, John started the upload. Sherlock’s processor fans kicked in hard for a moment as the programs started downloading.

The world… _his_ world came roaring back as the data placed itself and memories wrote themselves back into their dedicated spaces. Sherlock’s fingers twitched as his eyes scanned back and forth. A moment later he felt John’s fingers twine with his own.

Sherlock didn’t keep track of the time, he could have, but he was too busy remembering.

“Oh God…” he choked out as the last memory unfolded, the look of horror and terror on John’s face as they took his programming, the way John struggled against the MPs holding him, screaming Sherlock’s name.”

Sherlock sucked in a sharp, cooling breath, fingers instinctively squeezing John’s harder. “You stayed…”

“They couldn’t get me to leave. They had to drag me out kicking and screaming when you were shut down.” John’s voice was thick, tears in his eyes.

Reaching up with his free hand, Sherlock cupped John’s face, his thumb trailing over John’s cheekbone. “I missed you. I didn’t know it until you walked in the coffee shop… but God, I missed you.”

John let out a low, broken sound and kissed Sherlock hard, his hand fisted in Sherlock’s shirt. When they drew back enough for John to breathe, he rested his forehead against Sherlock’s. “I can’t believe they let you keep that bloody shirt.”

Sherlock looked down, having completely forgotten what he was wearing. His mouth twitched up in the corner. “You cursed your credit card statement for three months after you bought me this.”

“Worth every pound.”

Mycroft cleared his throat and Sherlock looked up, annoyed. “Don’t you have someone in Parliament to go bother?”

“It’s nice to know your delightful personality is intact, Sherlock,” Mycroft answered dryly. “As for your choice?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Tell us when to report to MI6 and then go away.”

John snorted, though he clung to Sherlock’s hand as though he were afraid Sherlock might disappear on him.

“John, I expect you to submit the program you wrote for him for verification. We will observe and see if he needs any help balancing the emotion algorithms.”

“Understood, Mycroft. Now will you _please_ bugger off?” John’s lips twitched as he said it.

Mycroft heaved a sigh and held out his hand for the tablet as John unhooked it. “Two days. I want you both at MI6 on Monday morning. That does not mean five seconds before noon, Sherlock. Eight A.M.”

“Yes, M,” came the chorus from Sherlock and John.

With a huff of exasperation, Mycroft stood and showed himself out.

Sherlock looked over at John. “Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”

John tipped his head back and laughed, looking truly at ease for the first time since Sherlock had seen him outside the coffee shop.

“You great git… Take me to bed.”

With a smirk, Sherlock scooped John off his feet, making John gasp.

“Christ, I think I forgot you could do that so easily,” John murmured as he nuzzled against Sherlock’s neck. 

Sherlock’s voice was quiet as he headed back to their bedroom. “There’s so much I recognize now… We came here on leave once. I needed to be brought back for updates and a thorough cleaning. Who better to escort me than the man who worked so closely with me?”

John’s smile was bittersweet. “It’s likely what got you caught.”

“I can’t regret any of that, John- I won’t regret any of it.” Sherlock whispered as he laid John on the bed.

“Shut up and get undressed. I refuse to be sad the first night you’re back in bed with me,” John huffed.

Sherlock laughed as his hands worked off his clothing at the same time John divested himself of his own. When they were both undressed, Sherlock crawled over John and kissed him soundly, a moan vibrating against the kiss as John’s hands ran down his back.

“God, I missed you, Sherlock… seeing you at that bloody coffee shop-”

John was interrupted as Sherlock kissed him again. 

“Shut up, Watson,” Sherlock murmured against his lips. “I’ve got three years of working in a bloody coffee shop to overwrite with your body writhing beneath mine.”

“Christ, Sherlock! I’d forgot that filthy mouth somehow,” John groaned as he arched up against Sherlock.

Sherlock grinned as he nipped along John’s jaw before biting down lightly on his neck, perfect recall letting him remember every single trick he’d ever learned about John’s body. 

John didn’t disappoint, arching up against Sherlock, groaning as he rutted against him. “Fuck, Sherlock. Don’t tease, not tonight. _Please_.”

“Still in the drawer?” Sherlock asked, even as he reached for it, hand finding the bottle of lube in the nightstand where it had always been. 

Sherlock sat up as John shifted on the bed, getting comfortable, a pillow beneath his hips. When Sherlock’s slicked fingers pressed against him, teasing him and smearing lube on him, John moaned.

“Fuck, slow, Sherlock… I haven’t-” he looked up at Sherlock as Sherlock’s hand stilled. “Not since they took you from me.”

“John…” Sherlock’s voice was thick as he gazed down at him.

John sucked in a breath. “Just because you didn’t remember didn’t mean _I_ didn’t… Now get on with it so you can _fuck me_ ,” he demanded.

With gentle movements that drew groans from both of them, Sherlock started opening John. His long fingers pressing and sliding against and into John as though it had only been a day… For him it might as well have been. He was determined to make sure John loved every moment of it.

When John’s hips were bucking and he was swearing under his breath, cock straining, leaking against his stomach, Sherlock withdrew his fingers and poured more lube over himself, smirking as he looked down at John.

“Oi, you smug bastard, _fuck me already_ ,” John groaned as he arched, trying to get closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock guided himself against John, relishing the moan he drew from him as he pressed in, going slow, allowing John to stretch and adjust around him.

John gasped, hands fisting in the pillow on either side of his head. “Sherlock… _Sherlock_ , fuck.”

Stilling, Sherlock watched John as he adjusted fully. His grin deepened when John squirmed on him. 

“Fuck’s sake, Sherlock. Three years hasn’t turned me into glass!” 

Sherlock actually growled as he rolled his hips, drawing a curse from John.

John braced his hands against the headboard, breathing already ragged. “Fuck, Sherlock, that’s it… hard, just fuck me.” His voice held a trembling, almost wrecked quality to it as he whimpered in need.

Giving in to John’s demands, Sherlock started a fast, somewhat rough rhythm, snapping his hips into John, over and over again. He watched as John arched, crying out as he gripped at the headboard, begging Sherlock unintelligibly.

Sherlock caught ‘more’ and ‘yes’ and several oaths as he used the movements he’d calculated over the years to bring John the most pleasure, letting the input slowly build to overload himself as well. It was going to all be over too soon, but Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to care… they had plenty of time now.

He reached down, wrapping John’s cock in his still slick hand, delighting in the groan he drew from John. Sherlock’s hips moved a shade faster, hand working in time with them.

John was panting, body starting to tense as he looked up at Sherlock. “Fuck, fuck- _Sherlock_.”

The overwhelmed quality to John’s voice made Sherlock’s smile near feral as he let go, picking up the rhythm he knew would push John over the edge with ease. He peeled back layers of his security, letting the overload build faster, timing it with the cues from John’s body.

And then John’s back was arching as he cried Sherlock’s name, body shuddering under him as he spilled over Sherlock’s hand.

Sherlock groaned as his system fluttered, shorting in non-dangerous ways at the overload of information. He had just enough control to collapse on John without crushing him, face buried in his neck as they coaxed each other through the pleasure.

Several minutes later, Sherlock eased from John’s body and fell on his back beside John, fans whirring in an effort to cool things down.

John smirked as he listened to the familiar sound.

Sherlock’s voice was slurred, processes still booting back up. “What’s that look about?”

“Mm, that particular sound of your fans… s’how I know it was good for you too,” John answered without shame.

A small huff sounded and Sherlock smacked John awkwardly with a pillow, still regaining fine motor function. “Prat.”

“You love me.”

Sherlock faced John fully and smiled. “Yes… yes I do.”

\---

**Six months later…**

Sherlock leaned against the balcony, pretending to smoke a cigarette as he watched the beach below them. The ocean breeze buffeted him and eventually he heard John grumble.

“Come back to bed, Sherlock.”

“You do realize that we’re _working_ , don’t you?” Sherlock huffed at him as he came back into the hotel room.

John cracked an eye open. “I marry you and all you do is nag me to work more. I knew giving you a ring was a mistake.”

Sherlock crawled into bed with John, kissing him slowly before grinning against his lips. “Yeah? Blame Mycroft. He’s the one who got them to recognize that I should be considered a living creature.”

A low, rumbling laugh vibrated between them and John stroked his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. “I love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Mm, and I you, John Watson.” Sherlock paused, brow furrowing. “Are you sure you don’t mind me taking Holmes and not Watson?”

“God, no, Sherlock… You deserve to choose your own last name. Having to take someone’s last name in marriage is archaic anyhow. It’s a choice. You _married_ me. That’s all I need. I actually really like that you took Mycroft’s name as your own,” John answered as he continued stroking Sherlock’s hair.

Sherlock hummed. “He is the closest thing to a- well a _family_ I have. If I were human I mean. You are my family…” He trailed off looking annoyed.

John chuckled and pulled him in for a kiss. “I know what you mean, Sherlock,” he whispered against his lips.

A low whine escaped Sherlock as John rocked his hips up. “We don’t have time for this you awful tease.” Sherlock nipped at John’s lip. “Get up, 003.”

Sherlock withdrew and headed to the bathroom to get ready.

John groaned and rolled out of bed, following along to straighten his hair and run a hand over the small of Sherlock’s back. “Is everything ready, S?” His tone was professional, despite the familiarity in his touch.

A smirk twitched the corner of Sherlock’s lip up. “Of course 003.”

\---

In the way that missions with _S_ and _003_ on the job always seemed to go, everything went to hell. Sherlock managed to get John out safely, but not before they’d had Mycroft on the line, imposing as always, shouting them down about _unnecessarily blowing things up again!_.

Q’s voice came over Sherlock’s earpiece. “Oh dear, S… Now he’s muttering about how you two are rivaling mine and 007’s record of managing to blow things up. Though why _I’m_ included in that, I haven’t the foggiest.”

Sherlock could just hear Mycroft’s indignant, “Because you supply him with the means to do it!”

A snort escaped Sherlock as he and John headed for the cruise ship, slipping on just before it set sail. 

“Boarded and heading back, Q. S and 003 out,” Sherlock murmured as he smiled brightly at other passengers.

“Understood S, Q-branch disconnecting. Oh- and have a happy honeymoon.”

“Sex Holiday you mean,” Sherlock quipped, receiving an elbow to the ribs for his efforts.

The last thing either of them heard from Q was riotous laughter.

“A sex holiday? Really, Sherlock?” John tipped his head up, arching a brow.

“Well it’s certainly what _I_ intend it to be…” He looked down at John as they approached their state room. “But if you’d rather play shuffleboard or-”

“Not on your life,” John growled as he unlocked the door and pushed Sherlock inside, kissing him roughly.

Sherlock chuckled as the door swung shut behind them. “I rather thought not… Now kiss me again, _husband_.”


End file.
